


daffodils in spring

by sunflowerbright



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, also there are swallows, and drops the phone a lot, and has a tail, and is just a cutiepie, but only the european ones, carlos thinks he's being teased, cecil is just very much in love, do not approach the swallows, i have no idea when this is set, pre-relationship type-thing, the swallows will harm you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerbright/pseuds/sunflowerbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil confuses Carlos. A lot</p>
            </blockquote>





	daffodils in spring

 

Cecil confuses him.

This is probably not strange – Carlos thinks Cecil confuses most people, with that soothing voice, that manages to be both hypnotic, calming and terrifying all at the same time, like you’re never certain if the speaker is being sarcastic or completely earnest, or some odd thing in-between.

Yes, Cecil confuses a lot of people, but the residents of Night Vale are used to shrugging their confusion off, like water gliding smoothly away, and so, what Cecil does and what Cecil is, all becomes obsolete in face of everyone’s favourite radio-host.

It is even becoming Carlos’ favourite program, though, to be fair, there is not that much else to choose from. Between the station that is just a dog barking, the one that has 24/7 bakesale-announcements, and that one guy that sounds like Stephen Fry reciting Satanic scripture in Latin, well, Cecil’s program is the closest thing to actual decent radio, not to mention news, that this town has.

And Carlos likes listening to the radio: it is one of the happy memories from his childhood, sitting on the counter in the kitchen, legs kicking in the air, and music floating out of speakers, frequently interrupted by static, because the radio was old and worn down, though the tunes were still just as sweet to him. If he works in just silence, he gets jittery, starts feeling lonely: the low hum of voices and sounds behind him helps, especially now that most of his science-team is… well, gone. Fled from this town, or consumed by it.

So he has the radio on, at almost all times when he’s working, and when he’s back at his apartment, alone as well, it is very reassuring – though not so much that, anymore.

Especially because Cecil somehow seems to know everything. Which would be frightening if it wasn’t because, well…

Carlos trusts Cecil.

He can’t explain it: there’s discontent, surely, and annoyance at the constant teasing (Carlos is painfully aware that his hair is too long and shaggy, growing out too quickly even after the cut, and that his voice is an odd mix of melodies, stuck somewhere between ‘bewildered’ and ‘condescending’ or so he has been told before)

But behind that, not many weeks have passed before Carlos thinks they’re all going to die in a minute, and the first one he wants to contact with the revelation is Cecil.

It’s… unsettling, and while he’s pretty sure by now that Cecil does not mean anything by it with the whole ‘Perfect Carlos’ teasing, it makes the whole thing all the more jarring still. He’s come to realise that he really, really wants Cecil to like him _(just as friends!, he tells himself)_ and no matter how good-nature, it still… well, it bothers him. Just a bit. Only a tiny bit, because as he said, the teasing does by no means seem laded with cruel intent and that’s… well, it’s part of what confuses Carlos about Cecil. Especially because Cecil always seem so genuinely _happy_ to see him, face lighting up like the sun itself, whenever they cross paths.

 _Please don’t tease_ , he thinks, as Cecil starts complimenting his hair again, voice carrying like soft tunes over the hum of the radio’s static.

“Oh, dear listeners, today is such a good day! Because Carlos, beautiful Carlos, oh, his _hair is growing out again_ , dear listeners! It is now, we can report, at the point where it curls lightly at the ends, like tiny daffodils on a spring morning. Happy day, dear listeners, happy day!”

Carlos cannot help but groan at the way Cecil’s voice rises, the way it always does when the words ‘Carlos’ and ‘hair and ‘perfect’ or ‘beautiful’ are involved. They create further signs that this really is just all a joke to Cecil, like most things are, or seem to be, lest the town consume the host’s mind completely. That is, if it hasn’t done that already!

Sometimes he wonders.

A song comes on, and as always, it is not one Carlos has ever heard before: he likes it, though. He likes the music from Cecil’s show, and he wonders if it’s Cecil or the listeners, or one of the interns who picks it. He suddenly really wants to know, and he cannot even explain why.

Maybe because it will create further insight into the Voice of the Town, tiny tidbits of information that he can file and store away, like a good scientist should do.

Of course, he isn’t absolutely sure what such information would be good for, when conduction experiments. Except if he was to write a journal or article on Cecil.

He pushes the thought away quickly.

What a silly notion.

The song ends and Cecil sighs through the radio, and Carlos is most definitely not blushing _alone in his lab._

“Listeners, recent reports tells us that a flock of European swallows have, for some reason migrated to our little home-town. The City Council advices you not to approach the birds, or try to keep them for pets, as they have been cursed. Eye-witnesses report seeing the bird swallow small children whole and viciously attack the adults who tried to help. I repeat: do not approach the birds.”

_What the_

“Apparently, they are nesting on the corner near Big Rico’s, so avoid that for the time being,” there was a brief moment of shuffling, before Cecil’s voice came from a distance, as if he’d turned away from the microphone. “Isn’t that where Carlos’ lives? Oh, he can’t stay there! How awful! He could be hurt!”

People worried about people, Carlos knew this. People worried because there was cause to worry, or because they liked someone, or didn’t trust them, or didn’t trust someone or something around them. People worried, Carlos knew, because they cared.

People also showed their worry in different ways. And he had never been good at figuring it out, but… but Cecil’s voice had just gone up about fifteen octaves in obvious distress, and no-one talks like that if they’re joking around, no-one disregards being on air, or forgets about it, in favour of conveying their panic.

There’s more shuffling, and Carlos thinks its Dana who replies something, and then Cecil is back, saying _‘sorry listeners, let’s continue’_ and then

“It’s just that I get so worried! Carlos is still from outside of Night Vale, even though he has been here for a good long while now, and sometimes I fear he disregards the safety instructions in favour of doing his experiments. And experiments are lovely, because science is important, did I mention that science was very important? But I just cannot help but worry. Oh well. We should move on to traffic, I think.”

Carlos heart is beating too fast in his chest, and he’s wearing a big, foolish grin. It’s just that… that was so _genuine_. That was… Cecil was worried, _really worried_ , about him, and there is a chance that Carlos has misread it, of course, because he is not good at reading emotions and situations, but that was…

That was worry. And Cecil is still worried, though carrying on with the show, voice only just hinting that the speaker is distracted.

He’s made his decisions, and his palms may be a little sweaty because of it, but…

He waits, dutifully, until Cecil signs off, the show ending: his phone is already in hand, and Carlos types in the number, fingers shaking a little bit. He’s still smiling though.

Cecil picks up on the first ring.

“Carlos!”

“Cecil,” he says, and imagines Cecil smiling widely because he called. “I’m calling for personal reasons. It appears that my street has been overtaken by murderous swallows, and I might, ah…” he breathes in deeply and feels giddy and apprehensive, but determined. “I might need a place to stay for a little while. I was wondering if I could stay with you.”

There’s silence on the other end, long enough that Carlos thinks he might have misread the situation: the grin is replaced by a frown, and he opens his mouth to say something, when he’s interrupted by a loud keening sound, and something of a _thud_ , like something soft landing on the floor.

“Cecil?”

“Yes!” Cecil’s voice squeaks, and there’s rustling and a quiet whoosh of air as if… as if Cecil is moving to an upright position after falling down to the ground.

Carlos is… not quite sure what Cecil would be doing on the ground, and he is _not_ going to entertain the possibility that the radio-host fainted just because he asked to stay over, because that is just _silly,_ and the butterflies in his stomach at the notion _are even sillier, could they stop?_

“Just say if its not okay,” he mumbles, wanting to backtrack now, because maybe he did misunderstand, maybe Cecil doesn’t have room, maybe Cecil really was just worried but doesn’t want him actually living there.

“Not okay?” Cecil’s voice still almost doesn’t sound right, it’s so high. “ _Not okay? I…!!!”_ Cecil stops himself then, throat clearing. “Hrm. Um. Well. Carlos. Bea… I mean, of course it’s alright. It’s more than alright. It’s perfect. I mean, it’s neat… grand! It would be grand! Oh. Grand isn’t better, is it?”

Carlos’ whole body is shaking now as he tries to suppress his laughter. “No,” he says, feeling lightheaded and _happy_. “No, it isn’t. So when can I come around?”

Another whoosh. Carlos frowns.

“Cecil?”

“Sorry, I dropped my phone.”

“Ah.” Why wasn’t there a loud sound as it hit the ground then? “Why didn’t…”

“I caught it. I’m good at… catching things.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah, extremely good, actually. Won the Catch Match of ’99 actually, I was so good at it.”

“Okay, that’s nice.”

“It might have something to do with my tail… with my talent. My talent for catching things.”

Carlos blinks. He’s seen Cecil’s tail. He hadn’t considered that maybe Cecil hadn’t seen that Carlos had seen Cecil’s tail, and wants to keep it secret.

If Cecil wants to keep it secret, well, then it’s fine. Carlos isn’t going to forcibly out anyone, especially not someone he…

… cares about. That’s a nice word. _Cares._

“So,” he mutters, eyebrow raised. “When would be a good time?”

“A good time tooooo…?”

“A good time to come over?” he had asked that, hadn’t he?

“Oh! Yes! A good time to come over! At my place! Where you’re going to stay and sleep, and sleep and stay! Possibly for a while!”

“Or at least until the swallows have gone away,” Carlos says mildly. “I mean, I can just sleep on the couch, it’s not problem.”

“The couch.”

“I really don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“ _The couch!_ ”

“And really, if it is too much trouble just say so, I can call up Steve or…”

“Steve?? _Steve Carlsberg?!”_

Oh, damn. Yeah. Okay, maybe not the best thing to bring up.

“Or Old Woman Josie,” Carlos meekly tries to deflect, and it’s like he can _see_ Cecil visibly relaxing.

“It’s really not a problem,” Cecil sounds almost… giggly, now. All giddy. Like Carlos was earlier. Like he might start to be again right now. “And you’re not sleeping on the couch, of course you’re not sleeping on the couch! I would never let an honoured guest do that, and not just because people sometimes disappear through the couches, it would be too impolite! I have a guest-room! With a bed and everything!”

“One that doesn’t eat people?” he asks lightly.

Silence again.

“I’ll have to check,” Cecil says then, voice grave. Carlos laughs.

“You do that. So when could I come over?”

“Just… whenever you want. Whenever you like,” Cecil’s voice turns dreamy at that last bit. Carlos is really not blushing.

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Neat! _Oh, dammit!”_

Yeah, Cecil definitely still confuses Carlos. Maybe in closer quarters he’ll have more luck figuring the show-host out.

He might, he admits, be a little too excited about the prospect.

“It does sound neat,” he tells Cecil, and yeah, the phone was definitely dropped this time. Definitely.


End file.
